written: august 30, 2017
you've always wanted to be an actress.
you know you'd make a good one when you're able to lie without giving away any kind of emotion, when your mouth says words that contradict your heart, when your face is impassive to a question asked.
you call it pretending; the world calls it lying.
but you're doing it for the greater good, you tell yourself. you're not sure of this, of what the outcome may be, if it might backfire in a way, but it's a comforting thought so you go with it.
until, naturally, all good things come to an end and your lie is exposed and you feel naked under the pressure of the inquisitions thrown at you, and all you want to do is hide under your blanket with your head beneath your pillow and block out the noise and pretend you're okay.
lies.
you're not okay and you know it.
lying is your strong suit. the idea of escaping something by uttering a few dishonest words makes you feel relieved. powerful, even, at times. your future is controlled by your tongue and as much as it terrifies you, it thrills you as well.
you are the best kind of liar and that's probably the worst thing about you.
but when you look up at the stars, you wonder what's out there, what the meaning of life is, if there's another dimension where you're an honest person.
maybe there is, but it's not this one.
ashamed, you close your eyes.
anyways, acting is lying professionally, isn't it? you'd excel at it.
